Life Is But A Dream
by Shinobu
Summary: Spike wakes to find himself in the most terrifying alien landscape of all: suburbia!


LIFE IS BUT A DREAM  
By Shinobu  
  
Spike lay on his back, the stars glistening overhead, then swirling into obscurity. Surely, one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment...  
  
"Hey!" came a voice through the haze. Spike shifted, barely acknowledging the abrupt intrusion. "Hey, Spike." A man's voice- a familiar, friendly voice. But he didn't want to hear voices, friendly or otherwise (unless it was Hers, which this voice most assuredly was not). Spike Spiegel wanted to rest.  
  
"Spike- wake up! What's up? Is there something wrong with you?"  
  
Eyelids rose to reveal the large round face of Jet Black. He wore an expression that Spike could only consider as, well- very Jetish- that wonderful cross between irritation and amusement (mostly irritation).  
  
"Jet," Spike spoke in a hoarse voice as he lifted his head. "What are you doin' here?"  
  
"What am I doing here?" the large man replied, stroking his chin in mock thought. "Well, last time I checked, I owned this place- and I don't pay you guys to sleep on the job."  
  
Spike sat upright in his chair. Something was wrong. He was not where he thought he was. Through his drowsiness, he surveyed his surroundings. It was a room, an office of sorts. It looked old, like something out of a history vid- late 20th century he guessed by the antique telephones and what he was pretty sure were old computers on the desktops. Jet loomed over him dressed in a business suit, or what would have passed for one about a hundred years ago. Two other people were in the room. A buxom young girl was looking up from her work station and a tall man stood nearby. Both looked at him wearing expressions of concern. This was definitely not good.  
  
"Is there something wrong with you," Jet repeated. "You don't look so good."  
  
"I don't fell so good," Spike managed as he tried to collect himself. Where the hell was he? What had happened? One minute he was in Red Dragon headquarters, and the next... "Where are we? What's going on Jet?"  
  
"Whad'ya mean 'where are we'?" Jet asked, his voice slowly tuning from irritation to worry. "We're at work. It's about three o'clock. Spike, you been drinking?" Black turned to the other pair in the office. "Punch, has he been drinking?"  
  
"No boss, not that I know of. You know Spike gave the stuff up. I don't think he's touched a drop in months. We went over to Annie's for lunch and he seemed fine."  
  
"That's right," the girl chimed in. "He was at his desk working. The next thing I knew, I looked over and he was slumped over asleep, then you came in."  
  
Marginally listening to the conversation, Spike tried to focus himself. A large sign on the wall caught his eye. BEBOP INSURANCE AGENCY. God, he thought, I must be dreaming, and this is...  
  
"Spike," Jet said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You been working too hard lately. I think you've been overdoing it a bit. Look, why don't you just call it a day and go home?"  
  
Home? "Not a bad idea," Spike muttered, wondering where "home" was. The last thing he remembered was... was...  
  
"In fact," Jet smiled, "let me drive you home."  
  
Spike rose, waiting to follow Jet's lead. As they were leaving the office, the girl implored him to feel better. The man waved and cheerily said "See you in the morning, amigo."  
  
He followed Jet through a series of short hallways into a parking garage, where they entered a ground car. Spike had seen this kind in museums, but had never actually ridden in one until now. If he was imagining all of this, he still hadn't ridden in one. Maybe he was just drunk and passed out somewhere.  
  
Jet proceeded to make nervous chatter in the form of small talk as he drove the vehicle through the streets of a large metropolitan area. Blue skies above- no red Martian sky; no dome; no falling debris. Could this actually be old Earth? Spike gaped at the sights with a combination of wonderment and confusion until Jet's "car" pulled up in front of a small dwelling. It was a residence, surrounded by a yard and flanked by similar houses with similar yards. To tell the truth, it all seemed somehow familiar. A cold chill shot up Spike's spine.  
  
"Well, here we are," Jet said. "Go get some rest. I'll call later tonight to check on you."  
  
"Thanks. I'm sure all I need is to lie down for a while." Maybe next time I wake up, I'll be back in the where I belong.  
  
Jet's car pulled away as Spike walked up the driveway toward the back door. He always used the back door, never the front. How did he know that? Can you have déjà vu in a dream? he wondered.  
  
"Hi neighbor!"  
  
That voice. It was- it couldn't be...  
  
Spike wheeled, reaching inside his coat for a gun that wasn't there. Standing across a hedge was a tall blond man holding hedge clippers. "You're home early," he said smiling at Spike. "Nobody in town need insurance today?"  
  
It was Vicious- but not really. Vicious with short hair wearing a Hawaiian shirt, cut off shorts, and doing yard work wasn't really Vicious at all, was it? "I, eh, didn't feel well. Boss told me to come home early and rest, that's all," Spike said lamely, still trying to make sense of everything- of anything.  
  
"Say, you don't look too well now that you mention it," said Spike's neighbor. "Best get in out of the heat."  
  
"Speaking of heat, I just knew you'd be working too hard, so I made you some lemonade." The pretty blonde girl approached carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses. "Oh, hello Spike. I was wondering who you were talking to honey," she said to Vicious, handing him a cold drink. "Hey, you're home early aren't you?" she asked, turning to Spiegal.  
  
It was her. It was Julia. She looked beautiful- okay, perhaps a bit ridiculous in an apron playing domestic with a homicidal maniac. Maybe in this life Vicious was just a homicidal gardener.  
  
"Spike's not feeling well sweetheart," said Vicious.  
  
"Oh, sorry to hear that. Well, go get some rest. We want you in good shape for our cookout Saturday night, don't we pumpkin?" she said as she sat the tray down and poured herself a lemonade.  
  
Pumpkin? Now he really felt sick. Spike gawked a few moments longer at this ghastly vision of domestic bliss, then retreated into his house- at least he guessed it was his house. Everyone else seemed to think it was.  
  
A dream? No- this was a nightmare. Even if this was real and Spike Spiegel, Space Cowboy was imaginary, THIS was a NIGHTMARE. How much worse could it possibly get?  
  
As he entered the kitchen door, he was greeted by a small growling dog. A Welsh corgi, to be precise. "Ein, cut it out!" came the call of an unmistakable voice. A drop of sweat formed on Spike's brow as the chastised dog grudgingly retreated. Spike walked toward the living room, slowly peaked around the corner, and there she was.  
  
Lying on the couch, the dark haired woman was inhaling a cigarette. A half-empty candy box lay on the floor. "What's wrong?" she asked. "They called from the office and said you were coming home sick."  
  
Spike's right eye twitched as fear swept over his body. He stood and said nothing. Mrs. Spiegel struggled to move her huge bulk into an upright position. Spike noticed a photo on the wall. It was a wedding picture- his wedding picture. He and Faye Valentine- young, thin, smiling- both of them. Surely the portly woman in front of him wasn't the woman he married. Yes- she was. In fact, she was quite a bit more. She must have put on a hundred pounds!  
  
"Are you just going to stand there with the usual stupid expression on your face? Answer me!"  
  
He couldn't. He began to tremble.  
  
"Well if you're sick, go lie down for a while," Faye said as she munched on a caramel nougat. "You need to be better before tonight- remember we're going to your brother's for dinner."   
  
Spike swallowed hard. "My brother?"  
  
Faye lit up another cigarette between candies. "Yes, your brother. You know, the rich, good looking one that I should have married instead of you."  
  
Spike swallowed hard again. "My brother?" he repeated.  
  
Faye rolled her eyes in disgust. "You are sick aren't you? Yes, your brother." She paused for a reaction- there was none. "Your twin brother- Andy?"  
  
Spike grimaced. It was a dream, a nightmare, a hallucination. It had to be. This couldn't be real. How could anything be this bad? It couldn't get any worse, it just couldn't...  
  
Faye gulped down a chocolate nut chewy. "You'd better go lie down and rest while you can. You don't have much time before school let's out, and... oops, it's too late."  
  
Behind Spike, the kitchen door flew open. "Oh no," he said softly to himself, turning around slowly, fearfully. In the doorway was a small red-haired girl wearing a huge smile.   
  
"Papa!" she yelled.  
  
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"  
  
  
LIFE IS BUT A DREAM...  



End file.
